Real Thoughts
by ChocolateMinigun
Summary: Lucy van Pelt has always been a nightmare. Real life people have actually grown up despising her because of her violence towards the vulnerable kids in her neighborhood. But just how messed up can she really be? Told from her perspective, these 3 separate stories, covering interactions with Linus, Schroeder, and Charlie Brown in 3 chapters, is one possible answer.
1. Linus

Linus van Pelt. Oh, what a blessing to this family he is. What a saint. What a wonderful brother he is to me.

What a complete blockhead.

Everyone always comes up to me and tells me how much of an unmatched genius he is. With his never-ending words of wisdom, he has bestowed happiness and joy to all others. It drives me crazy, because in actuality… well, there he is, sulking on the couch. I'll just go up to him and ask him why he's so miserable, and I'll bet he'll say something infinitely stupid.

"What's going on with you?", I ask him.

Linus pulls out a little red flashlight. "They sell these little flashlights in all different colors, see? Some shine blue light, others are red, or yellow, or white, lots of colors!"

"And?"

"They didn't have any that shine black light!"

Voila, ladies and gentlemen! That wasn't an incredibly lucky bet I made, you know. He says brainless things like this all the time! In a way, I never get sick of him! But in another way, I want to ram his head into the wall and choke him to death with his own blanket.

Linus van Pelt couldn't be more embarrassing. He is a freak, a nuisance, and a runt. Not only is he full of stupidity, he's also full of **delusions**.

Every single Halloween, Linus will spend the entire night sitting in this nearby pumpkin patch, awaiting the emersion of the "Great Pumpkin". What is the "Great Pumpkin", you ask? What is right. Nobody knows. It's just something he made up one day! And then, there's his security blanket, the absolute worst thing about him and the one thing I wish would just get out of my life! He had it when he was a baby and he has had it ever since! Just like a baby, he will cry, beg, faint, vomit, scream, and cry some more if you take it away from him, despite his actual age. These issues seem IMPOSSIBLE to have! How can you be this pathetic!?

Either he is the wettest coward who ever lived, or he's just looking for attention. Or maybe it's both! He is constantly outside talking to others, and he mithers me even when I'm clearly busy reading or something. He picks up all these weird habits that he's so stubborn about and I bet it's just to seem cute and different. And no matter what kind of logic, truth or sense you try to hammer into that thick skull (and trust me, I have HAMMERED that skull), he never becomes any more mature. He's like a sick puppy who ought to be put down.

I can think of another puppy who ought to be put down, too. Maybe if they kill one, they'll kill the other for free.

Or maybe that won't be necessary. Hey, everyone has a future, am I right? Even the sickest and stupidest. Perhaps he can be cured under the right treatment! I have tried to rid him of that stupid blanket before. I even buried it in a completely random area once! Even that wasn't enough, he dug up the whole town looking for it, which is one of many things he has done that has ashamed the family name, an eventually, that other puppy I mentioned earlier found it for him. I need to do something more radical.

Sometimes, the best way to stop yourself from crossing a bridge is to burn it down.

I mean it this time. This is it. I've been wondering how I can put an end to this madness once and for all, and now that our parents are out for at least an hour, I think I know exactly how to do it. It ends tonight, one way or another. So, I put my coat on and unlocked the front door in advance before searching for the little stillborn.

Ah, there he is! Sitting in the beanbag, watching the television, blanket in hand and thumb in mouth. Yeah, he sucks his thumb, too. What a disgusting little creep. You can get crooked teeth by doing that, but a part of me kinda wants to let that happen to him. In any case, one problem at a time! If any of his problems need to be dealt with, it's the one with the blanket.

Eyes glued to the screen. Volume loud enough to render my footsteps silent. Slowly, steady, aaaaand…

GOTCHA!

"AAAUUGH! My blanket!"

As he lunged out of the beanbag, I dashed to the front door with his blanket held tight, and I swung the door wide open. I was greeted by a great big gust of icy wind. It's coming close to dusk, and the year is young, so naturally, it's absolutely freezing! It probably won't be snowing again, but there are still small patches of snow and ice everywhere you look. It's perfect, it's so cold and, although not too late, so much so that everybody will be indoors. No "witnesses", I should say. As I quickly made my way across the road, I look back and see that my stupid brother didn't stop for a second to put on a coat, which will make this little plan of mine more effective.

I dashed straight around the block and into the park, taking Linus exactly where I want him to be, the good ol' pond! Every winter, this pond freezes solid, and all the kids in the neighbourhood come here to skate around and play ice hockey. The surface is still frozen, but you couldn't put a human of any size on it without them falling through. I have plenty of fond memories here, and the fondest I'll ever have is a few seconds away.

Having stopped dead in my tracks, I turn around and see my little brother dashing towards me in blind fury.

"GIVE IT BACK!"

I lifted up my leg and let him run straight into it, kicking him deeper in the stomach than I ever have before. I swear, I felt his liver on the bottom of my foot or something. He bent over in pain and collapsed, hitting his head on the cold soaking ground. Loads of tiny wet rocks stuck to the soft parts of his body, such as his arms and cheeks. I kneeled down beside him, waited for his eyes to open, and punched him as hard as I could across the face. And again. And again. And again. And again.

He didn't make a sound. He probably couldn't. He rolled over and got on his knees, curled up into a ball and waited for the next attack with his arms shielding his head, but there wasn't going to be another. I took a few steps back to let him stand up. Slowly, the whimpering little swine turned his head towards mine. His face was dripping with blood and tears. It took him about 12 seconds to get up on his feet.

"What are you doing?", he wheezed.

I couldn't help but smile and laugh. This is the most pathetic he has ever looked!

"You and that stupid blanket", I told him, for the billionth time. "Do you think you'll be hugging this thing for your whole life?"

"So what if I do!? I have no reason to believe you would care for my well-being anyway! What's it matter to you?"

"You make me look like a failure and a loser with that stupid blanket just as much as you do yourself! You make EVERYONE who knows you feel like a failure and a loser! You'll have no future, and you'll damage everyone else's!"

"It's my property! I can do what I like with my own property! You have no right to take what's mine! If you have a problem with it, you just have to deal with it!"

"Oh, but I _am_ dealing with it. Once, and for all"

"I won't ask again", he says. The nerve of him! "Let GO!"

Considering the direction and the strength of the wind, that was a very poor choice of words!

"Okay, if you say so!"

I waited for just the right moment, and as soon the wind howled, I let go. Off it went! Landing right in the centre of the frozen pond…

"AUUGGHH! What have you done!?", he cries!

"Don't just stand there, go get it!", I yell.

It was the fastest limp I ever saw! And the moment he laid his foot down on the frozen edge, we both heard the sound of pressured ice forming slow-growing cracks underneath the sole of his shoe. He immediately stepped back. Needless to say, it wouldn't be so simple to just "go get it".

Linus just stood there, shocked and unable to speak through paranoid crying. Tears were passing through the blood surrounding his mouth, and sending it down his neck and soaking his collar.

"Now, now, now. Don't look so upset!", I said to him. "This is your chance to make things right! To break this ridiculous habit! You can just walk away from this pond, and outta this park, and I'm sure you'll be cured in no time! I bet you'll look back on yourself and wonder what all the fuss was all about! Nobody needs a security blanket. I mean, it's insane, don't you think? I promise you, you'll be thanking me for this. It's for your own good, not to mention mine! You'll be wondering why you even needed it. Do you even know why? **What have you been scared of all this time?** "

...

…

Well, well, well…

"Y'know... I think I finally know what the answer to that is…

And let me tell you, that blanket is **oh so** **justified!** "

I cracked my knuckles and took one step forward, making sure I trod on one of the last lumps of snow, so he could hear my "chilling" footstep!

Linus made his decision, and it was the one I hoped for. The blockhead ran straight across the ice! He actually managed to make the first two steps. Third time's the charm! He managed the world's shortest scream before his bleeding head went under. Not so logical without that blanket now, are we?

I saw his head pop out from the hole in the ice. His arms reached out and he tried to pull himself out, but the ice he was gripping just broke under his weight, and he sunk again. God knows what it's like in there, I'm freezing cold standing here with my coat on!

I could hear the sound of him gargling through all that terrified splashing, and I don't think I have ever laughed so hard before. Now, _I_ was the one with tears down my cheeks! Have you ever seen a worm drowning and wriggling around in a puddle? I haven't. Until now! I just wish I could be over there to kick him back in again without falling through myself!

"LUCY! HELP ME!" he screamed.

With a coy look on my face, I just shrugged. Even if I wanted to help him, I couldn't. And you know what? It's his own fault anyway. That's the best part of this. He could've just walked back home like any normal person would. But no, he decides to drown in the middle of a frozen pond, with nobody around to hear him crying, or to know that I was involved, and all because he couldn't leave his wittle blankie behind.

Well… It's probably not too late for him, actually. He isn't _that_ far from land. Like I said, it ends tonight, one way or another. Either he gives into his addiction, or he saves himself by beating it, whereupon I'll have to threaten him with the death he avoided if he tells anyone. Tough decision to make, for him at least.

Let's wait and see. He'll have to decide fast, or he'll freeze to death…


	2. Schroeder

Schroeder…

Schroeder, Schroeder, Schroeder…

Fluffy blonde hair… cute button nose… soft spotless skin… he's not missing anything.

So elegant… So graceful… **So disappointing!**

Everyone else is ugly, stupid, and irritating, but they are always willing to hang out with me, and with each other. However, the _one_ guy who I can stand is the one guy who never leaves his house or talks to anyone! The quiet one just _had_ to be Schroeder!

All Schroeder is interested in is his piano. Every single day of his life since before he could even walk, he has spent hours on it! HOURS! And he _still_ doesn't do anything else except listen to music, which is so he can learn it on that stupid piano! How do you _do_ that? How do you just sit there pressing buttons all day!? My rival is an _inanimate object_ And it's the basket he put all of his eggs in! He hasn't shown interest in ANYTHING else.

Oh, wait. I almost forgot about baseball. He's the catcher in our neighbourhood baseball team. But like most people on the team, myself included (I'm only on the team because he is!), he's awful at what he does and he only suffers while he's there. Poor, sweet baby.

All in all, if you wanna see Schroeder, you won't be finding him outdoors, you'll be finding him indoors. You've gotta go to him, because he won't come to you. One problem. He'll be on his piano. He'll be in his "zone", and he won't want to talk, and woe betide anyone who tries to do just that.

It's funny. He'll let you be there, but nothing good will come out of talking to him, no matter what you say. I remember when I fell in love with him years ago. I saw him smiling at his first piano, putting his all into getting his piece right, and golly, was he just so cute! I just wanted to smother him with kisses! All the other boys? I just want to smother them full stop, and nothing has changed since. Schroeder is the only person I know who I don't want to throw off a bridge and watch the pool of blood from their smashed skull grow! He's just… too perfect to ruin! I want him unharmed. I want him pure! I want him to love me to pieces! I have only ever treated him with kindness. I have given him every complement in the book, and how does Schroeder respond?

With nothing but insults and growls. Each, and every time.

Sometimes, it gets physical, too! Whenever I'm leaning on that piano, he'll yank it away and send the back of my head to the ground. Once, I was facing him while he did this, so I landed on my chin and broke a tooth. Did he care? Is the sky blue!? He just hates me! It's as if it's hardwired in his brain to hate me! Even though I've never hurt him before in my life!

Well, I've smashed a few Beethoven busts and destroyed one or two pianos, but he's been treating me like garbage even before all that! Every time I go in that house, I leave in some kind of pain. I don't know what he's like with others, but I can only assume he's the same! I suppose I should hate him back! I suppose I should beat him to death and forget all about him!

But I can't even forget about him for a minute, day or night. I'm not kidding, he's absolutely stunning. To declare him my enemy could be a huge opportunity wasted, and then I would have nobody I could be around without the urge to punch a baby (Linus). And so… here I am. Outside his house once again, about to pay him another unwelcome visit. If I can just… form a peace treaty, you know? If only I can convince him to change his mind about me, to love me... I can't begin to imagine how happy I would be if he was as obsessed with me as I am with him!

It won't be so simple getting in this time. I haven't been inside his house in two weeks. His mother would always let me in, thinking Schroeder needs a friend, especially a girl! But she's recently banned me from coming in because I always upset him. Finally, though, after a fortnight of waiting, there's a perfect opportunity for me to try again. Not only did that ol' crow drive off a few minutes ago, but that there kitchen window is as wide open as the hug I'll be greeting Schroedy with!

I clung on to the window's handle and pulled my legs onto the sill. I leaned back and let my weight open her up s'more. I could hear that stupid piano from here, so I didn't bother being quiet, he couldn't hear a howler monkey with a smoke alarm nailed to its foot. After awkwardly squeezing myself in and landing with a metallic thud on the kitchen sink, I began to follow the sound of music. As always, Orpheus was in the living room, facing down on the keys of his little red piano.

Oh, how my heart melts at the sight of him! Two weeks is way too long to go without seeing this. There you are! One glimpse of Schroeder, and the day hasn't been wasted.

Feeling rather romantic, I snuck behind him, creeped up, and greeted him with a biiiiig hug!

He must've known that only I would break into his house and snuggle him.

"L-Lucy!?"

"Who else? Hee hee hee! Did you miss me, my little-"

"GET OFFA ME!"

I was about to caress his jaw, but he shot up and flung his arms out, breaking my cuddle and knocking me to the carpet. He whipped around and saw me, smiling up at him. He glared back. I smiled wider!

"How did you get in here!?"

"If I told you that, you wouldn't make the same happy little accident again!"

"YOUR NOT ALLOWED IN HERE ANYMORE!"

"Wanna go outside, then? My house, maybe?"

"You… UUURRGGHH! What will it take!? What could I possibly do to show you that I wouldn't care if I never saw you again? Is five years of total neglect not enough? Is a ban from my doorstep not enough to show that I HATE you?"

"Hate me? HATE me!? How can you _hate_ me? You've never done anything _with_ me! You have never actually given yourself the opportunity to get to know me, and you've never let me have the chance to show you!"

The muscles in Schroeder's face relaxed just a little. He looked a little bewildered.

"Maybe you'll really like me! Maybe we'll have a lot more in common than you might think! Maybe you'll love me to bits! What if you love me to bits, Schroeder? What if we have a great potential future, where you and I get married, and get a house, and get- "

"Carried away with our 'what if' stories?", he interrupted. Nice to know his beloved sarcasm was still there.

"Hey, you don't know! All that could happen! And aren't you curious? Have you never asked yourself 'Hey, what if I stop pushing Lucy aside all the time and insulting her with every reply, and see if we can actually be great friends?' at any point in your life? I might be the woman of your dreams! I am most certainly willing to be! I'd be the best wife-um-girlfriend ever! Come on! Just give me a chance! Let's do something, why, we could watch T.V. together, or we could play cards, or marbles, or cook something, or anything! Anything! Why do you hate me so much!?"

Just give me one little chance. Please…"

…

…

Schroeder crossed his arms and sighed. His droopy eyes looked around; like they do when you're thinking deeply. He's making his decision! 'Better stay quiet and smile innocently while he does. How I wonder what's going on in that perky little head of his. I have to admit, I'm a little anxious.

…

…

Then… he looked back at me… and… smiled!

He relaxed his arms at his sides, and approached without breaking eye contact…

… And he gently laid his hands above my waist, and pulled me closer.

There were a ton of things I wanted to do, but I stayed still and let him do what he wanted. This is awesome! This is… URGH! YES! I DID IT!

He moves his arms further behind my back, turning his clutch into a cuddle.

Without any lack of confidence, he closed his eyes, and moved his lips closer. He was half an inch away from a kiss…

…

…

And then he violently pushed me away towards the wall, where the very edge of the living room window sill dug into my back. The same sill struck the back of my head as I fell down.

"You wanna know why I hate you so much? Cut out the act, and I'll be more than happy to tell you.

You're a sick, manipulative, selfish little COW! You think I don't know what sort of things you do to everyone else? You are way beyond a common bully; you _toy_ with everyone's anxieties, depression, and obsessions! You deliberately build up trust and dreams just to smash them down! You're perfectly aware of your own brother's mental health issues and you psychologically torture him every day! You leave my best friends MOTIONLESS and BLOODSOAKED on the ground, scarred and injured, and you love every second of it! We wake up crying because of you! You have RUINED my childhood, and everyone else's! The best thing you could ever do is find a way to simply disappear, WITHOUT EVEN LEAVING A STINKING CORPSE BEHIND! I WOULDN'T BURN IT TO KEEP THE HOMELESS WARM!

 **JUST GET OUT OF MY LIFE!"**

…

…

There was more disgust, and more fury, in Schroeder's face then there ever was before. I stood back up, and sighed.

"Well… rats. It seems like I'll never convince you to love me."

I looked back at him, and as I did, my face quickly turned back into the beam it was a minute ago.

"In that case, you're gonna have to convince _me_ to _hate_ you _!"_

Schroeder was shaking with unbridled rage. His clenched fists were a dark red. His gritted teeth looked like they were going to shatter under the pressure of his jaw. He looked like he was ready to squeeze all the blood from my body.

And he has never looked more handsome!

"Why do you even like me? No matter what I do to you, no matter what I say, you keep coming back to me. Why can't you leave me?"

"Y'know, I've always wondered that, too. I mean, you were always cute, but it never ended there. There was always something else that separated you from everyone else. And now? I know.

Oh, everyone around here is so WEAK! They're all just so EASY to torture! You can crush them like little grapes, and then just do it again the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, and so on!

EVERYONE! Except you. It was only ever you who fought back against me! And boy, you fight back HARD! That anger and fire and toughness and aggression and HATRED! HA HA HA HA HA! IT'S SO GORGEOUS! Oh, here we are, baby! In our true colors!"

"You're crazy!"

"For you!"

"Get. Out."

"Make. Me."

He launched himself at me, with a flurry of kicks to my exposed shins. I grabbed his shirt and forced him down to the floor, his head smacking against the window sill on the way down.

He remained on the floor, but I climbed onto my knees. There was a radiator underneath that sill, and it was burning, so I lifted him up and pressed his face against it. Hard.

He screamed so load, it disoriented me. He had to press his hand on the radiator to force his face away. I tried grabbing him again, but as my hands reached out, he caught them and he bent my fingers as far back as they could go without breaking. Then, square in the nose, he headbutted me.

I fell back, and felt cold fluid filling up in my throat. I managed to pull myself together and swallow it all, and I sat up, sending a river of blood out of my nostrils and onto my dress. I was forced to breath out of my mouth, inside of which I could feel dozens of thick, bloody bubbles.

I licked my lips, which painted my mouth red. I glanced at the man of my dreams, and gave him a smile through crimson teeth. He looked a little stunned, which left him wide open. I gave him a swift kick in the gut, which made him lean forwards in pain, allowing me to reach his face with another kick. I got him in the forehead, ever so close to his eyes, and as he stumbled back a little, I was able to get back on my feet and approach him.

"Aww, would you just _look_ at us!", I said, before I grabbed his incoming fist. "Aren't you getting a rush from this? I bet you are, aren't you?

We do have something in common…"

I let blood build up in my mouth a little, and spat it all over his face. I grabbed his collar, and ruthlessly struck at his ribs, before biting his right hand and cutting deep into his fingers. I then threw him to the floor.

As he lay down on his back, I knelt down beside him, and stole a few kisses. They were bloody and numb, but it was much better than nothing. Schroeder forced his face to one side and away from mine, and started gagging.

I was about to attack again, but before I could, he suddenly threw an incredible punch to my gut. Snarling loudly, He rose up, and he clutched my hair and dragged me to the corner of the room. I saw one of those small, decorative tables, and it was made of metal. He lifted my head up and threw my forehead down at the table's edge.

He lifted me back up with his blood-soaked hands only to fling me down at the table again.

I was dropped onto the floor. He knelt down, and he beat me several more times. He was tired, and they were weak beatings, but they were full of fortitude. That table really did my head in, and I was too vulnerable. He gave me no time to recover. He won.

…

…

With that…

he lifted me up…

he carried me outside…

and he lowered me on the porch, hiding me using the outdoor bench.

"Tell anyone what you like", he said. "Just don't come back."

He turned around, went back inside, and locked the door.

I had never felt so much pain before. Not even close.

My body was warm with bruises, and drenched with sweat and blood. Every cut felt so wide open, and every motion burned me with a powerful ache.

It was… more fun than I've ever had. It was amazing. I love him now… more than ever.

Eventually, I got up. I saw the blood on myself, and on the porch, and I washed it away with the hose of theirs. I, for one, won't be leaving evidence about what's happened today. Maybe then, I can do it all over again.

I staggered home, wondering how I could hide all these marks.


	3. Charlie Brown

Charlie Brown.

Oh, Charlie Brown…

Who's the biggest failure you have ever met? The biggest failure you have ever heard of?

Because I don't think you've ever known someone quite as hopeless as Charlie Brown.

This is a boy who can't do anything, no matter how much he wants to, or how hard he tries. He spends every day of his life with the saddest face pullable, because of how unfairly brutal life happens to be for him. Oh, woe is him! And why, he's so harmless, and caring, and he doesn't ask for much in life! But sadly, it's as if the universe is just conspiring against this one poor little guy, simply because… life is cruel.

Now here's the truth; it's because he's a weak, submissive, paranoid, moping little idiot. If you can't win a game of baseball, or talk to some redhead you have a crush on, you have no one to blame but yourself!

Charlie Brown is a coward who never learns and who deserves absolutely no sympathy whatsoever. He doesn't get better at anything mostly because he never brings himself to take the first step. He runs away from every task and problem, from work, to play, to bullies. He will remain silent and never call for help, taking all the pain you give him like a human punch bag. At least the other kids around here, including my crazy little brother, _try_ to retaliate, and _try_ to stand up for themselves. Charlie Brown, however, doesn't have the self-respect necessary to look after himself. He has **no** future. He is the single most pathetic human being I'll ever see.

And that's why I like him!

I have more fun with this blockhead than I do with anyone else! You can kick him, punch him, and call him whatever you want! He will let it hurt him. He will even tell you how much it hurts, he won't try to hide his tears and aches, just like how he won't try to fight back! You can take it nice and slowly, and leave yourself wide open, but you won't suffer a scratch in return.

He's… well, probably my best friend. And he thinks I'm his friend, too! We talk like pals every day. Sometimes, I try to help him with his many, many, many, many, many, many problems. To no avail, by the way, because he's that sad a case. Sure, we fall out sometimes, and I clobber him for it, but all I have to say is 'I was angry' or 'I was only trying to help' or 'I was only kidding', and sometimes I don't have to say anything at all! I don't think we've ever considered each other enemies, which is what makes the two of us so perfect! I feel like no matter what I do, he'll forgive me, and see me the next day with a smile on his face, despite the hangdog look that was there before.

I can't say for sure, though. Hey, I'll admit, I'm not omniscient! Maybe one day, he _will_ bite back! So I sort of… take it in small doses. As much as I'd love to just beat him to the ground and make him choke on his teeth, I don't wanna make him completely lose his trust in me, because… well… I don't think I'll ever meet someone quite like him ever again. Someone so hopeless, so wimpy, and so pathetic, that I can have all the fun I want with them, and they will never stand up for themselves. He's like a toy that they might stop making, so you just have to look after the one you've got. Don't play too hard!

That being said, I ought to step up the game a little…

Where is he now? He's out there stargazing. Only one of many things he tends to do when he's feeling depressed. He doesn't even wear a coat, just to add to the gloom. I'd better go see him. Already dressed, I just needed my hat and coat. I headed out into the dark, breezy field beside the world's biggest loser, and started a conversation with him.

"Hey, Charlie Brown. There's something I've always wondered…"

"What's that, Lucy?"

I didn't surprise him in the slightest. He kind of expects people to creep up and talk to him.

"You never see the clouds at night.", I said. "In fact, you never see the stars during the day, either. Why do you think that is?"

Charlie Brown's replies to my questions are always something to look forward to.

"I've never noticed that before…", he mumbled. "Well, apparently, the Earth spins at over 1,000 miles per hour. And the sun is always on one side of the Earth. I suppose the clouds are also just on one side, and the stars are on the other."

See what I mean? I smacked his shoulder to turn him around, and gave him the puzzled look he deserved.

"Over 1,000 miles per hour!? That's more than 1,000 miles per hour! You're crazy, Charlie Brown! There's no way it's spinning _that_ fast, we'd all go flying off the face of the planet!"

"Oh, good grief."

"Who are you good griefing at?"

"…Good griefing!?"

Can you believe this guy? Oh, the stupid stuff he says! I moved closer to him and pointed at the sky.

"Look, you see the stars? You see how perfectly still they are!?"

"Yes, yes I do, Lucy, yes I do."

"Right, well, if I'm supposed to believe that Earth is spinning around at hypersonic speeds, then the stars ought to be whizzing by! Are they whizzing by, Charlie Brown!? Are they!?"

At that moment, a shooting star whizzed by.

…

…

"You've got a very round head, Charlie Brown."

"I don't feel like arguing, Lucy! Well, I never do! But I most certainly don't feel like it now! I'm depressed. School worries me. College Worries me. Jobs worry me. Even retirement worries me! I don't understand any of it!"

Oooh! What's all this, then? Compared to the paltry bunk he usually cries about, such as 'Waah, everybody hates meeeee!', this is quite intriguing.

"What's happened to you, Charlie Brown?"

"Well… y'see, I went into the city centre, today. It was supposed to be a nice day out, but I wasn't happy. There were homeless people everywhere! People who don't have jobs or houses. Some had to perform with guitars or sell poems for money. And I felt awful having to walk past them and give them nothing, especially while I was eating that great big pie from a nearby bakery. Some even have homeless dogs! Some were asleep in the daylight!

What if I end up like that, Lucy? What if me and Snoopy end up like that!? WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN TO ME!?"

…

…

"So, you come out here in the cold to calm yourself down?"

"No, I've come out here in the cold to see what it's like being homeless!"

"What!? Oh, what a blockhead you are, Charlie Brown!"

"I was waiting to see how long it would take for you to call me that. Don't you have any other names?"

"Well, of course I do! I've got a ton of them! Blockhead has just… become instinctive at this point. The irony is that your head isn't even remotely block shaped. It is, in fact, so round that you could chop it off and start bowling with it. They say nature cannot create such a perfect sphere, but I suppose on this _one_ occasion-"

"Alright! I get it!"

"So, you're right, Charlie Brown. I _should_ have more names for you. 'Tell ya what, I'll call you a Blockhead only on Mondays. Then on Tuesdays…"

"Oh, brother…"

"You will be known as failure face. I'll call you oxygen thief on Wednesdays, and perhaps numbnuts on Thursdays, but I think I can come up with something better than that soon."

"… And for Fridays?"

"Charlie Brown. The worst insult of them all!"

He scowled as I chuckled, but I knew he wouldn't do anything. Anyone else would at least shout at me, but _this_ blockhead just sighed and slumped on the…

Wait, what day is it today? Um… Oh, yeah!

 _This_ oxygen thief just sighed and slumped on the damp grass, and kept whatever thoughts he had to himself. He had his arms crossed and his face turned away. He's so good at looking miserable, it's like he was destined to be depressed. Usually, I'd slap him and tell him that he's worrying about something stupid again. Although… this particular worry is actually one that makes sense. Who isn't concerned about growing up and getting jobs? I sat beside him and wondered what to do.

Charlie Brown, after all, has no talents. I can't possibly see how he could make a living! This looks like a good opportunity to put this 'friendship' of ours to the test. Perhaps I can do something about this homeless business.

"This homeless business, Charlie brown. You're not doing it right."

"I'm not doing it right!? How can you be _homeless_ right!?"

"If you think you might end up homeless, which I can totally understand, you'll have to do it right! Where's your sleeping bag? Where's your tinned food?"

"I… wha… well…"

"Let me teach you a little something about survival! I'll be back."

So I got up and ran back home. Charlie Brown, being so sad and useless, would most likely still be there, but as funny as it would be to just leave him and go to sleep, I had something much, much better in mind.

Tonight, I will push the limits. And I know how.

So, I searched the house for anything I could imagine the typical bum possessing. My mom's old violin would do for a musical instrument, and I also equipped the book she had on how to play one. Then I found a little plastic cup to put change in, some towels and parkas, a box of matches, some small planks of wood from the garage, two short plastic stools, and whatever food in tin cans we had left. 10 minutes later, I was back at his side, carrying my homeless kit on a wagon.

"What's all this?", he asked.

"If you ever worry about something, you learn more about it! You're worried about being homeless, so you should know how to cope with it should it ever happen! Now put these towels around you!"

"Towels?"

"Well, I couldn't use blankets, could I?"

I lobbed the purposely chosen, bright pink towels at him, and turned back to my cargo. The wooden planks were next. I couldn't be bothered to carry them all together, so I blindly threw them behind me individually without much care if any were to make a landing on a certain round head.

I turned back around with a grin and said to him "The first thing we wanna do is get warmed up, so help me start this fire."

"Fire?!"

"Homeless people set fires in those metal barrels and stuff, and gather round them for warmth and cook food in them! I don't have any barrels, and neither do you, so we'll just use these planks to make a campfire."

"Oh, I don't feel like doing any of this, Lucy!"

"Good grief! You can't even be homeless right, can you?! You have to be prepared for what life throws at you! Now pile the planks up neatly before this match burns out."

"You've already lit a match!?"

"PILE THEM UP, CHARLIE BROWN!"

With that, he bounced up in a quick panic and clumsily gathered the scattered planks before dumping them together in a rough pile. I immediately dropped the match on the wooden heap. The two of us stood back, and quietly watched the fire grow. I couldn't help but feel a bit proud of myself!

"Is this legal?", he asked, staring at the flame.

"It is if you're homeless.", I replied, without being at all sure if it was. "Nobody's around anyway, so it doesn't matter."

I brought the wagon a few feet closer to our cosy little spot, and took out the plastic stools. I handed one of them to my potato faced pal, who naturally sat down next to me. It was important for him to be on my left, and for the wagon to be on my right.

He was still looking a little shaky and sceptical as he warmed up his hands.

"You've gotta relax, Charlie Brown. I'm only trying to help, y'know."

"I know.", he replied in a quiet, fed up monotone.

It was also important to make him feel happy.

"Maybe you won't end up jobless and homeless. Maybe you'll be fine. And in any case, let's just have a nice time tonight, okay?"

Charlie Brown turned his head to me a little, and then looked back at the fire with a little smile.

"Okay.", he chuckled lightly.

"Now, would you mind getting the food from the wagon while I put this parka on? We can have a go at cooking!"

"Sounds fun!", he replied. He slapped his knees as he got up, in that 'Right! Let's get busy!' sort of way. And began walking over to the wagon. But just as he was about to pass in front of me…

I quickly thought of a lame excuse to shoot up.

"AAAUGH! SPIDER!", I yelled! And I leaped from my seat and bumped into him harshly.

Knocking him away, making him lose balance, and making him fall…

… **into our little campfire…**

…

…

It was just as I planned. It was just what I wanted.

His whole body fell in, save for the ends of his legs. The back of his head, knees, and arms spent about three full seconds in there with no clothing to shield them. His eyes were shut tight and his arms were swinging in a blind panic. His legs wouldn't stop kicking, and his voice box wouldn't stop that long, loud, piercing, blood curdling scream…

This was pain that I couldn't imagine, yet I caused it. I caused it so casually. Just like that.

He staggered out of the campfire and onto his feet, still shaking and swaying. His whole body was still on fire. His clothes were burning, and his skin was still burning. His screams became incredibly short and repetitive, and each one sent a warm shock through my body. I've seen him terrified before, but this is what he looked in the worst physical pain I know. This is what he looked like fearing for his life.

This was surreal. I never thought I'd see this! I couldn't believe it was happening! All I could do was watch. There's no turning back now! What if he dies? What if this ends it for us? Should I have done this?

He immediately got onto the ground and started rolling. Good thing he knows that trick. It made me wonder for a split second if _I_ could work through that sort of pain. When you're getting badly hurt, you sorta go blank. You lose concentration, and time just passes by. But Charlie Brown, this _child_ … he was burning alive! But he was actively thinking through that pain, he was capable of bringing himself to roll. And it was working.

My stun was starting to wear off. I was able to stop asking myself a million questions at once and start thinking properly, maybe because I had no choice but to accept the fact that this has happened.

Look at him. He he. Roly poly! Ha ha! Suddenly, I felt all giddy! I mean, wow! This is amazing! LOOKIT! **CHARLIE BROWN IS BURNING ALIVE!** CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!? WOW! HAHAA!

"CHARLIE BROWN!", I screamed, dashing towards him as his little rolls started slowing down. Oh, he was still panicking and trying to extinguish the remaining flames; he wouldn't see me simpering madly! My heart was pounding! I was overloading! I halted next to him and stomped on his body as hard as I could!

"I'll put out the flames!", I shouted, as I crushed his face, his hands, arms, stomach, neck, chest and shoulders right under my foot, whether those parts were on fire or not! I _was_ extinguishing _some_ flames, so I _was_ helping him, just in the worst possible way, is all!

Soon enough though… the fun ended. Charlie Brown stopped burning. But he didn't stop screaming. I wiped the smile off my face.

"Don't move!", I 'trembled'. "I'll go get help! It's gonna be fine! You'll be fine, don't worry!"

I ran to his house, slammed desperately on his door, and waited. I brought my hands to my mouth and shook my breathing, trying to look as terrified as I could. His mother answered the door. I looked at her with watery eyes, and said…

"Charlie's had a horrible accident!"

…

…

My friend was rushed to hospital that night, in a state of pure agony. All the other kids knew what had happened when the ambulances turned up, and all I could do was lock myself in my room and away from all the talk, refusing to let anyone in. I doubt anybody slept that night, certainly not in this house. The phone kept ringing, the front door kept knocking, and not a second went by without the sound of somebody's voice.

Almost two weeks have passed since that night… They felt so long and so grey, and I was always on the edge.

Throughout the days, no parent or child knew what to think of me. It was an accident, but a horrible one, caused by a little girl, but a horrible one. Yes, I've done bad things in the past, but wasn't this different!? I told everyone I was absolutely traumatised by what I saw. I told everyone that I felt so guilty and so regretful for causing such a terrible disaster. I broke down crying each time I was confronted with the issue. I basically had to act like Charlie Brown always does, and it wasn't easy!

But in situations like these, what matters most is what the sufferer thinks of the person who caused their pain. What matters most is what Charlie Brown thinks of me, after what I have put him through.

And now, less than two weeks after the incident, I was about to find that out. I was ready to see him.

His parents were expecting me, as my own gave them a phone call earlier, saying that I had to know what I've done to him. I knocked on the door, and I didn't have to wait long for a reply.

It was Charlie Brown's mother, who is about as naive as he is, by the way. Believing that I was infinitely upset about the total accident I caused to my good friend whom I love so much, she was soft and gentle to me. She bent down and held my hand as she brought me inside and showed me the stairs, telling me that he was in his room. I told her I wanted to be alone with him, and she understood, and went back to the living room.

I trudged up the stairs, went to his front door, and knocked. There was no reply, but I figured he wouldn't want to bother saying 'come in' or anything. I opened the door.

The room was dark and stuffy. The only sources of illumination were a small lamp and a quiet television set which was brought up here from the living room. There he was, facing me, or rather the television next to the door. He was sitting in a soft chair next to his bed, wearing short sleeved pyjamas and a small number of bandages. His face was quiet relaxed, but obviously miserable.

"Charlie! Hey, buddy.", I said quietly.

"Hey there, Lucy…", he uttered.

I closed the door behind me and was about to approach, with my hands covering my chest.

"Would you mind turning off the T.V. for me?" he suddenly said. "My eyes are starting to sting."

"Oh. Err, yeah, okay."

I turned the T.V. off, and then the lights on. I stopped and prepared myself for a little while before bringing myself to turn around and look at him in the brighter light. The sight that greeted me was far from pleasant. I grabbed the wooden chair from his desk and placed it in front of him before sitting down to get my first good look at him in what felt like ages. His injuries were right there in front of me, and regardless of whether or not they were covered, they were hideous. Charlie Brown didn't move. He was slumped awkwardly in that chair.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?", I asked him.

"It… feels a little better sitting.", he croaked. "And I can watch T.V. like this. There's nothing else to do."

I took a few moments to sit back and look away from his baggy, puffy eyes to scan the rest of his body. With the bandages, pyjamas, and the position he was in, the most striking thing about him was his right arm, which had the most visible injury. Everything else was either covered up or not as nasty. There was just this great big red mark running across it. It reminded me of eczema when you scrape all the skin off and make it scarlet and secrete liquid, but it was so much darker, wetter, and deeper than that. There were parts of it that were black. it looked like you could slide your finger down it like slippery wet glass. There was also this disgusting little gold bubble on it. I decided his eyes were better to look at.

I sat forward again and asked him "What did they do to you?"

"What, you mean the hospital?", he said, clearing his throat "I had to be taken to the burn centre, see, and I had to be stay there in limbo, unable to do anything but listen to noise and beg to myself. Parts of my skin had to be cut off. I had to be covered in bandages, and coated in creams. I was gorging on pain medicine and antibiotics. And also, since I was rolling around in dirt and had soil in my wounds, they had to be cleaned and I had to have a tetanus shot. It was all pretty simple, actually. It just takes long."

"Will it heal?", I asked.

"It'll heal. But not completely. They were full thickness burns. They went all the way down to the dermis. They always leave big scars."

He sniffled before looking down at his arm.

"And not just physical ones..."

…

…

"It was awful!", he cried. "I didn't just feel it on the outside, you sorta feel it on the inside, too. I felt it digging into me and refusing to go away! I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone! There was no reason to stop crying and worrying! I kept asking myself why this had to happen! Why me!? Why anyone!?"

"I'm so sorry, Charlie Brown!", I yelled. "I'm really really sorry! It was an accident, I swear! I wish I could just go back and stop this! I HATE myself! I don't know what to do! I almost killed you!"

I covered my face with my hands, grabbing hair with curled fingers.

"You're my best friend… You have to forgive me! Please!"

I was being serious. After hearing what he said, I thought I went _way_ too far this time. I felt like a total idiot. There's no way he's gonna forgive-

"I forgive you."

…

…

"W… What!?"

"I forgive you."

I… I don't believe it… I lowered my hands and saw him… smiling!

"It was an accident. It wasn't your fault. I know you wouldn't wanna burn me to death!"

"Uh… no! No! Not at all! Of course I wouldn't!"

"So I forgive you. I can't bring myself to be mad at you when you didn't mean it, no matter how much it hurts. You know me. I don't give up. So I'm not giving up on my friends."

"I… I don't know what to say! I… I've been worrying about you all week! I'm so glad you're okay! And I'm so glad _we're_ okay! I mean… Phew! Heh, I feel a lot better now!"

"Me too, Lucy. Me too."

"But I'm so sorry about this, Charlie Brown, I really am. I could never make it up to you."

"Well, you could let me kick the football."

"Keep dreaming, pal!"

We both laughed together. Something we haven't done in a very long time.

"But seriously.", I whimpered. "I don't think I'll ever quite get over it."

"We'll all do our best.", he replied. "We'll all do our best."

"I… I've gotta go. I'll… I'll see you again tomorrow, okay?"

"You don't wanna stay?"

"I'll be here tomorrow, okay? I've just… I've gotta rest, okay? I've been having trouble resting, and I'll bet you have, too."

"Yeah, you're right. Tell my mom to come up here when you go down."

"Okay, I will. I'll be there for you, Charlie Brown, okay? We'll get through this, and I'll make sure everyone else is there for you too, or I'll slug 'em!"

"Hehehe. You don't have to do that!"

"Hahahaha, okay, get some rest, Charlie Brown."

"You too. Bye."

*slam*

…

…

Well… That's that.

What do you know? I'm in the clear. How about that? Charlie Brown completely forgave me! He didn't doubt me even for a second. We're still friends. Life goes on. I'm gonna be fine. I felt like I've just stepped off a terrifying roller coaster. Only then can you look back on what you went through, and love it.

Good ol' Charlie Brown, yes sir. Good ol' Charlie Brown… Good ol' stupid, gullible Charlie Brown!

No matter what life throws at him, Charlie Brown ends up feeling right as rain the next day. He'll forgive you for any pain you cause him, and he'll let you have your way if you just tell him that's what's gonna happen. **And a whole new tragedy can just start all over again!**

I wonder if I'll ever get bored of him. If I do, maybe I'll finally put him out of his endless misery.

Not just like _that_ , of course. Oh, no.

There's something… _delicious_ about how his feelings change. How he flips between optimism and pessimism. How he never gives up, and keeps fighting, in the hopes that one day, he'll win.

You know what I would absolutely love more than anything else in the world? I'd love to do something to him that will make him the happiest man on Earth. I want to do something that will make him feel like all that depression and anxiety has been worth fighting through. I strive to selflessly give him a gift that will turn his feeling for me into pure love. I'll have him dancing, crying, and laughing out loud. I want him to say "YES!", and "THANK YOU!", and "OH, COME HERE, YOU!". And then that's what I'll do. I'll come to him, with a great big smile. I'll come to him with open arms. I'll come to him and I'll give him the warmest, tightest cuddle possible!

And then I'll drive a knife into his stomach…

I'll hold him close and stare deep into his eyes, watching the expansion of those pupils. I'll be close enough to see all the slightest movements change that expression from lottery winning joy, into more loss than you can possibly have. I'll see the blood drain from his face as it leaks out of his torso. The truth about me will hit him like a comet as all our precious childhood memories come flooding back. All that care… meaningless. All that pain… deliberate. I won't just be able to hear his cries, I will be able to touch them, taste them, and _smell_ them. If he does not scream, I will twist that knife and make him.

I will push him away, and send the back of his head thumping to the ground. I will kneel down beside him, and re-open all those healed scars. I'll decorate that pale, detailless body with deep, agonizing cuts. Long ones all across his arms and legs, and loads of cute, tiny ones all over his face and neck. He'll be so blood-soaked, that I couldn't slap any part of his exposed flesh without a little red splash. And then, I'll go crazy; I'll gouge his eyes, I'll scrape his gums, I'll pierce his tongue, and I'll dig out his fingernails. I'll stab the very centre of his palms, and puncture all of his joints to the bone. I don't know what I'll do, but I won't stop. I won't stop until there isn't a spec of life left in the rancid sack of meat that is Charlie Brown.

One of these days, I'll make _my_ dream come true! Something Charlie Brown will never do.


End file.
